Confrontation (Please Subscribe)

"There wasn't my name on the shelves,"

Ron said, confused. "There wasn't anyone else's, either."

"Harry, I don't think you... should touch it."

Hermione squeaked as Harry reached for it.

"Why shouldn't I?"

he said. "It concerns me, doesn't it?"

"Don't, Harry."

Neville suddenly said.

Harry glanced at him. Neville's sweaty round face gleamed faintly; he looked as though he could not bear any more unease and anxiety.

"My name's written on it."

To hell with it. I'm already this far in, Harry thought, and grabbed the dirty little sphere.

He had expected it to be cold, but quite the opposite—it felt as though it had been left in the sunlight for hours, warmed by its own glow.

Harry waited, even hoped, for something dramatic to happen. He hoped for something exciting, something that would finally make their long and perilous journey worthwhile. He took the glass sphere from the shelf and stared at it.

Nothing happened.

The other five came closer and stood around him as he brushed the thick layer of dust from the sphere's surface.

They stared fixedly at the ball in his hand. Then, behind and to their right, a lazy voice spoke.

"Very good, Potter. Now turn around slowly and give it to me."

Dumbledore remained hidden in the darkness, coldly observing everything happening within the Department of Mysteries.

It was not yet time for him to reveal himself. More importantly, Jon was not here.

He had already sent people to look for him, but all that returned was news that they had found nothing.

If Jon could not be found, then he must be doing something important. Even Grindelwald had not sent back any good news.

He had not expected that, at this stage, he would still have to handle matters personally.

Still, for